


Heels Over Head

by meiloslyther



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drug Use, First Time, Fluff, In Public, M/M, Split-fic, Stoned Sex, attempted suicide, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-29
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiloslyther/pseuds/meiloslyther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Jon have been together for a little over a year. Brendon's been fooling around with Ryan for about the same amount of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a prompt idea that I stole from [](http://faith-omgwtfbbq.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://faith-omgwtfbbq.livejournal.com/)**faith_omgwtfbbq**. I took a twelve song playlist made at random and wrote this fic from it.

Brendon curled up tight against Ryan's side, resting his head on Ryan's bare chest. It was a girly thing to do, but then again, since when did Brendon try to convince anyone of anything anymore? He was a man; he knew it, Ryan for sure knew it, and no amount of girlishness would or could ever change that.

"Do you love him?"

Brendon glanced up at Ryan before quickly looking away, avoiding the question. He didn't need this right now. He was _cuddling_ , damnit.

"Because if you do, we need to stop this."

"It doesn't matter, this doesn't mean anything anyway." Honestly, the cuddling was for Brendon more than it was for Ryan.

Ryan grabbed Brendon's chin, making him meet his eyes. "If it doesn't mean anything to you, why do you wear my clothes?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"He knows, Brendon," Ryan sighed, throwing his head back exasperatedly. What a drama queen. "He knows because you're always wearing my clothes, you always smell like me." Because they were having sex pretty much every time they were alone together.

"He doesn't know. He can't."

"He does."

Brendon sighed. "Look, there's no way he could know. All this is is sex. Just sex; that's it." He threw a leg over Ryan and straddled him. "Speaking of, wanna go again?"

Brendon Urie, the Don Quixote of modern times.

"You're avoiding the issue, B."

"I'm not avoiding the issue, I just don't care." There was a pretty, naked man under him and he totally wanted to bone him. Again. Issues were not his first priority at that moment.

Ryan sighed. "You don't care that your boyfriend knows about your little affair with his best friend which, might I add, is not so little?" Ryan was 'not so little' himself, but that wasn't what he was getting at.

"He doesn't know, okay? Now will you shut up so that I can fuck you into next week?"

Ryan huffed, blinking up at Brendon, but he didn't push any further. Brendon would rape Ryan before he would give in to Ryan's little mind games. Ryan would rather enjoy sex with Brendon, thank you very much, so he just kept his mouth shut.

Brendon smiled down softly at Ryan, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You love it when I fuck you hard."

"You know me too well."

Ryan almost wished he actually did.

***

Jon paced in front of Spencer's bed in the next room over. Spencer snored, so the other three took turns rooming with him, and tonight it was Jon's turn, but that wasn't what was keeping him from sleeping; besides, Spencer was still awake.

It was all the half-muffled moaning, the soft grunting, the quiet squeak of the bed next door that kept him awake.

"Do you love him?"

"Of course I do. That's why I don't want to believe that he's doing this to me." Jon slumped down next to Spencer, putting his head in his hands.

Denial keeps all wounds from forming.

"How long has this been going on?"

"About a year."

Spencer gave Jon a curious look. "But you two have only been together for a..."

Jon glanced up at Spencer and the miserable grimace on his face told Spencer all he needed to know.

"...Oh." How this whole mess had passed Spencer by, he wasn't sure. "Fuck, Jon, I'm sorry. I didn't even know, and Ryan's my best friend. Shit, when did you find out?"

"I've known all along." It was a lie Jon told himself to even be able to sleep at night. He hadn't known until a week ago.

Spencer nodded, taking everything in. "Have you said anything to either of them?" And to think, both of them used to be such nice guys.

Jon shook his head and Spencer rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's just... I want him to be happy. And if I say anything about it, he'll get mad at me and then... then I might lose him." He didn't even want to think about the fact that he might already be gone.

"You really do love him," Spencer muttered.

"I just wish I knew what I'm doing wrong, what Ryan gives him that I don't."

'Failure' wasn't the right word, but it was the first word that came to mind.

Spencer squeezed Jon's shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. "I wish I could tell you what that is."

***

The next day went on as usual; group breakfast in the morning once everyone was finally awake, then they got on the bus to go to the venue a few blocks away. Soundcheck went smoothly, their stage clothes still smelled like last night's sweat, and Brendon was just as hyper as ever. There were no signs whatsoever that something was going on between Brendon and Ryan because Brendon was constantly hanging on Jon, invading his personal space at every given moment.

"We have an hour before we need to get ready for the show," Jon whispered to Brendon as they sat on the bus. "Want to disappear somewhere?"

"There's no one in here," Brendon whispered back, leaning over to shut the door to the back lounge. "Who says we need to disappear?"

Jon deliberated; maybe this was what he needed to do to get Brendon back, maybe he went to Ryan because he thought Jon wasn't adventurous enough anymore. But honestly, Spencer and Ryan were _just_ behind that door, and it didn't lock.

"Or are you too chicken?" Brendon teased, crawling in Jon's lap and nuzzling his neck, just past where his beard ended.

Jon narrowed his eyes playfully, hurling Brendon down on his back and pinning him to the couch. "I'll show you chicken."

Brendon could only giggle as Jon tugged their clothes off, pulling Jon down for a kiss once they were fully naked. Brendon knew how this would go because Jon was predictable; Jon would tease him, fuck him senseless, then they would cuddle for as long as they could. It was probably the only reason Brendon stayed with him; Ryan just wasn't rough enough when Brendon let him top, couldn't manhandle him the way Jon could.

But it was also what turned him to Ryan in the first place. Brendon couldn't stand the monotony of predictability. He wanted to fuck just as often if not more so than he got fucked, and Jon just wasn't open to that. Well, at least he never offered.

Brendon squirmed as Jon simultaneously sucked on the head of his cock and stretched him with one, two, three fingers. Only when he had Brendon panting for more did Jon pull up, slick his cock with saliva, and position himself, pushing in with practiced force.

Throwing his head back, Brendon keened loudly, gripping the edge of the couch as Jon nearly bent him in half, his hands behind Brendon's knees. Within ten minutes, Brendon was moaning loud enough to wake the dead with each bruising thrust, and Spencer was banging on the door telling them to keep it down.

Jon could only laugh, capturing Brendon's mouth in a kiss and swallowing his groans.

"We can still hear you," Spencer yelled through the door, followed by a snicker from Ryan.

"Fuck off," Jon growled back, making Brendon's keening reach a higher pitch as he began moving faster, his thrusts harder.

It wasn't long before Brendon was biting down on Jon's shoulder, his nails dug into Jon's back as he came. Jon followed shortly after, muffling his own cry into Brendon's neck.

Afterwards, both laid there holding each other, just breathing and knowing full well that the moment wouldn't last.

_I love you_ , both of them thought, but never said.

***

Later that night, after the show, Brendon stumbled exhaustedly onto the bus and into his own bunk, curling up next to Jon and still radiating massive amounts of heat. He promptly fell asleep as the bus rolled out of the parking lot, breathing slow and deep through his nose. His bangs were sticking to his forehead from his shower, stray water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. As Jon watched him, he realized that while Brendon was beautiful as always, he didn't look quite as peaceful as he normally did when he slept, that he looked almost scared, or at least as scared as a sleeping person could look.

However, Jon found that if he turned his head just right, if he looked just out of the corner of his eye and squinted a little, Brendon appeared to be smiling ever so slightly. Maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe Jon was just seeing things. Maybe Jon was just overly paranoid, but either way, Jon knew it meant something.

Brendon was lying. About everything.

Pushing Brendon's bangs off his forehead, Jon thought about leaving him for the first time since they'd gotten together. He knew Brendon was cheating on him, with one of his best friends even, but things had been good, everything had been okay. If Jon had never found out... well, then he just wouldn't have ever known.

Jon knew that he deserved much better. He just didn't want to break Brendon's heart, such a fragile little thing for such a brave and confident young man.

He didn't have the heart to tell Brendon what he knew.

***

At the next venue, somehow Ryan and Brendon ended up alone in the dressing room, and to Brendon, that was the perfect time to get a quick fuck out of Ryan. He was almost a sex addict at that point; a quickie in the bathroom of a downtown venue, a blowjob behind a gas station, handjobs in the back lounge of the bus when everyone else was asleep. Jon was never this carefree.

"Brendon," Ryan warned him, not even looking away from buttoning up his shirt in the mirror. He'd been around Brendon too long to not know what he was thinking by now.

Apparently, Ryan wasn't having any of Brendon's shenanigans.

"Come on, Ry, just a quick one," Brendon persuaded him, licking around his ear and letting his hands wander around to the front of Ryan's slacks. "Hard and fast, just the way you like it," he continued in a sing-song, grabbing Ryan's crotch.

Ryan shuddered, could feel himself getting hard already, but he wasn't going to back down just yet. "Anyone could walk in, Brendon. Do you want Jon to walk in on you fucking me into the couch?"

"We won't take that long, stop worrying."

Ryan looked up at Brendon's face in the mirror to find a rather devious glint in his almost black eyes. Ryan sighed. "If Jon kills me, I blame you."

Brendon grinned.

It wasn't even ten minutes later that none other than Jon walked into the dressing room. What he found was heartbreaking; Ryan on his back on the couch, his head hanging over the arm with his wrists pinned next to his shoulders by Brendon's strong hands. Ryan's knees were hooked over Brendon's shoulders and, well, Jon could figure out the rest from the sounds they were making.

"Mother fucker."

Denial can't cover up the truth forever.

Brendon froze and Ryan opened his eyes, his gaze locking with Jon's for a whole second before he threw Brendon off of him, kicking him in the stomach in the process. He rolled off the couch and onto the floor, grabbing up his clothes and covering himself with his pants as he stood.

"You're dealing with this alone, Brendon," Ryan muttered, backing into the bathroom.

Jon was simply glaring at Brendon as he pulled off the wasted condom and dropped it in the trash.

Brendon sighed, not bothering to get dressed. "Look, Jon, I can explain-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Brendon," Jon snarled, his eyes like fire. "I want you to play this goddamn show like nothing happened, alright? But when it's over, I'm calling a band meeting."

"Jon, what are you-?"

"We're finished, Brendon."

Brendon could only stare as Jon turned around and left the dressing room.

***

Jon kept his word and, after the show, he called a band meeting in the front lounge of the bus. Brendon was scrunched up in the corner of the couch with his feet on the cushions, trying to make himself appear smaller and fidgeting with the seam of his jeans. Ryan and Spencer sat on the other end of the couch, a comfortable but friendly distance from each other. Jon, with his arms crossed over his chest, sat across from them at the kitchenette table.

"I can't do this anymore," Jon sighed, talking more to Spencer than anyone else. "I think the best thing for me would be to leave the band."

"What?"

"You're being unreasonable..."

"You can't just leave us, man..."

Jon held a hand up to stifle the uproar Ryan and Spencer were bound to start. Brendon simply looked horrified, his nails dug into his thighs. "I've already thought this through, and I've already made up my mind."

"Jon, please. We still have three more shows this tour," Spencer pleaded, his face an almost perfect copy of Ryan's; surprised and confused with just a hint of puppy eyes.

"I'll finish the tour, don't worry about that," Jon assured them. "But when I go home afterwards, I'm not coming back."

"What will you do?" Ryan asked after a moment of silence, a hint of acceptance in his monotone.

"I haven't thought of that yet," Jon answered truthfully, finally looking over at Ryan. "I'll find something."

Ryan met Jon's eyes and a look passed between them, Jon's eyes suddenly widening in realization.

"No, Ryan."

"I've been thinking about this for a while. We haven't been able to write anything new together for months now."

Jon hung his head. "Ryan, don't-"

"Look, I honestly think we'd all be more productive if we just... split." Ryan turned to Spencer for support. "I mean, we all have ideas, they just don't work with each other."

Spencer appeared more thoughtful than angry or upset. "So you mean that we...?"

"Yeah. And then we would-"

"Right, of course. So then...?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Spencer nodded. "It's probably for the best."

The two looked back at Jon for confirmation.

"So, Spencer and Brendon, then Ryan and I?"

The two men nodded, and Jon agreed silently.

"Brendon?" Spencer tried, turning to him, still curled up in a melancholic ball.

Brendon's sad brown eyes flicked over to Spencer, someone safe at least, and he nodded absently, looking back down at his feet.

"I guess it's settled then," Spencer muttered on a sigh, looking to Ryan and getting a slight nod in return.

Silence echoed throughout the bus as the driver came back a few minutes later and started up the engine, taking them to their next venue and ever closer to Ryan and Jon's departure.

***

Jon's flight home to Chicago was a full hour before everyone else's, so everyone was crowded around him to say their goodbyes. Spencer and Ryan were still running on the adrenaline from the last show and were talking animatedly with Jon and Zack. Jon simply looked tired but relieved, accepting the lingering hugs and "I'm gonna miss you"'s from Spencer and Zack, the excited "I'll call you"'s from Ryan.

Brendon, who had been putting on fake smiles for fans all week, sat in a chair a few feet away, sulking. He put on a good show on stage, but as soon as he walked off, as soon as the lights and cameras were no longer pointed at him, the spark in his eyes died out and his smile faded. He had barely said three words to anyone since the decision to split, and he had been a little black cloud hovering over everyone who knew.

Finally the call for Jon's flight to begin boarding came across the loudspeakers, so there was another round of hugs and best wishes. Brendon stood at that point and approached Jon silently, standing in front of him awkwardly. Jon, not nearly heartless enough to deny Brendon a proper goodbye, reached out and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Don't go," Brendon whispered, his voice hoarse as if he had cried recently. "We can fix this. Just... please, don't go."

"I have to." _I need to_ , he didn't say.

"Look, I can change, Jon. Please, I can be a better boyfriend, and I promise I'll never cheat on you again-"

"Brendon," Jon interrupted, pulling back far enough to grab the sides of Brendon's face and look him in the eye. Brendon froze except for his eyes, which were searching Jon's hopefully. "Calm down, you're making a fool out of yourself."

A couple of people were already staring.

"Jon, I love you," Brendon blurted, desperate, his voice cracking a little.

Jon sighed. "You don't, Brendon. You don't, at least not right now." He didn't want this to be any harder than it already was, but Brendon wasn't one to go quietly.

Brendon's eyes were beginning to water. "Jon, please..."

"Look, I can't be with you, Brendon. I love you -- I really, really do -- but I can't be with you if you don't love me back. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to you. Even worse, it's not fair to Ryan because he's stuck in the middle of this mess."

A tear finally made its way down Brendon's cheek and Jon felt his heart break a little more, but he had to do this. He had to let Brendon go.

"Listen to me. Talk with Spencer, cry, punch some stuff. Get your shit straightened out, alright? Call me when you can truthfully say that you love me with all of your heart, and not a moment before." Jon pressed a quick kiss to Brendon's cheek, brushing away the tear clinging there, and turned away, following the crowd onto the plane.

Brendon finally broke down, and Zack had to pull him protectively to his chest to keep people from gawking.


	2. Chapter 2

"Brendon called again."

Jon looked up from slipping his flip-flops off at the door. "Is he...?"

Ryan shook his head, handing Jon his cell phone. He had gotten into the habit of leaving it with Ryan when he wanted some peace and quiet.

Jon sighed and flopped down on Ryan's couch. It had been nearly a month since they left Panic and Brendon was still calling every day, his voice pained and teary. He was desperate; at least, that's what Ryan and Jon chalked it up to. Jon stopped answering his phone two weeks ago.

"I'm tired of him calling all the time."

"You think I like it?" Jon retorted, watching Ryan walk over to sit down next to him on the couch. "He was supposed to be the one, you know?" Jon sighed, tilting his head back against the cushions. "He wasn't just pretty, wasn't just a good fuck, he was sweet and funny. He was..."

"He was supposed to be yours."

Jon rolled his head to look at Ryan. "Sorry."

"No, no. I should be sorry, Jon. I knew what we were doing was wrong, I even tried to stop him, but everything seemed like it was okay. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for all of this and if I caused you to dislike me in any way-"

"Ryan. Really. For the million and first time, I'm not mad at you." Jon slumped further into the couch. "I'm mad at myself. I couldn't give him what he wanted."

"If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't either. Otherwise he would have left your ass for good."

Jon glared at Ryan, but there was no heat in it.

"Yeah, I know, I'm an asshole, everyone tells me that. Hit me," Ryan added, baring a skinny shoulder.

Jon lightly punched Ryan in the arm, laughing a little. "You're a punk, Ross."

"You sound like your mother."

Laughing, Jon ruffled Ryan's hair, making him squawk indignantly. Ryan fended Jon off and they sat back in comfortable silence, contemplating everything all at once.

"What you said at the airport," Ryan muttered finally, looking straight at Jon. "...Would you really take him back if he actually did love you?"

"No," Jon answered confidently, staring off into space. "I don't want him back, at least not anytime in the near future. He needs to grow up and get his shit together. He's still a kid, and I honestly don't think he can handle an adult relationship just yet."

"Brendon was barely legal when we got big. He had billions of teenage girls fawning over him. It was his dream come true, to be a rock star." Ryan snorted a little at the thought, shaking his head. "He was invincible, he was Superman. He could do anything, everything. It went to his head."

"And I never saw it," Jon concluded quietly.

"You were just as blinded," Ryan reasoned, turning to look at Jon directly. "You adored the spotlight just as much as he did. You just never let it keep its hold on you."

"Doesn't make me the better person."

Ryan sighed heavily. "No, I guess not." He reached out to push Jon's bangs out of his eyes. "Stop being so hard on yourself."

Jon looked up and met Ryan's eyes, wide and concerned, beautiful as always, with an unconscious hint of innocence that seemed out of place in such a mature person. "I need a shower," Jon announced then, averting his eyes and standing.

Ryan nodded but didn't move otherwise, staring down at his hands as Jon left the room.

***

"You tried calling again, didn't you?"

Brendon sniffled from where he was curled up in the fetal position on his bed and stifled a sob, not even trying to hide his face from Spencer anymore. Spencer had seen him cry so much in the past month, Brendon didn't even care what he looked like.

"Brendon, you need to give him time," Spencer repeated for what felt like the billionth time, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You need to give yourself time."

Time heals the wounds that truth created.

"I c-can't live without him, Spence," Brendon stuttered weakly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I n-need him."

"No, you just don't _want_ to live without him. Give him a couple of months to cool off, take some time to get over yourself -- and would you stop crying like a little girl? Jesus, Brendon."

Brendon took a few deep breaths to calm himself down again, wiping his wet cheeks. "He won't even t-talk to me now, who says h-he'll talk to me in a couple of m-months?"

"You've upset him, Brendon, he has every right to ignore you." Even though Spencer thought 'ignore' was a harsh word for what Jon was doing, it was as true as anything else.

Brendon's breath hitched again and Spencer sighed, knowing why Ryan and Jon left him with Brendon but wondering how they could put him through this. Being Brendon's cheer-up committee was a tough, full time job. Probably even more stressful than being a celebrity, and that was saying something.

"Come here," Spencer ordered softly, pulling Brendon into his lap and prying the cell phone from his sweaty hand. "You know I hate seeing you like this," he muttered, petting Brendon's hair and letting him cling to his shirt.

"I've b-been such a dick to him," Brendon whimpered against Spencer's neck. "But I've t-tried to fix things." He paused for a moment, and Spencer could feel his neck getting wet from Brendon continuing to cry. "I really do love him, S-spence."

He wasn't just saying it.

Spencer sighed again, hugging Brendon tighter and resting his cheek on Brendon's head. "I know, B."

***

Ryan giggled stupidly as he watched Jon attempting to figure out the lighter.

"Fuck you, Ross."

"You are so fucked up right now," Ryan cackled, closing his eyes to make them stop moving.

Jon finally got his hand to work around the tiny plastic lighter, firing up the bong they had been passing back and forth for who knew how long.

"So, no, really. This is how you deal with your problems."

Jon passed the bong over. "'S worked for eight years so far. Don't judge me." He lit the bong for Ryan since he still had his eyes closed.

Ryan shook his head, his skinny little chest puffed out with all the smoke he was holding in his lungs. "Not judging you, man," he exhaled, a cloud of white forming in front of his face. "Just saying it's a shitty way to deal with your problems."

"I don't see you complaining," Jon mocked him, taking the bong back. "Last hit, man." 

Ryan giggled again and fell over onto Jon's shoulder, opening his eyes again. "Yeah, well..." His eyes were still moving sporadically, flitting all over the place. "Shotgun it with me."

Nodding, Jon lit the bong, hitting it hard. He set the bong and the lighter on the coffee table afterwards and pulled Ryan close, sealing his lips over Ryan's.

Ryan let his eyes fall closed again as he inhaled Jon's secondhand smoke, holding on to it for a moment after Jon pulled away before letting it out through his nose. It burned a little, but he was too high to care.

"Your lips are really soft," was all Ryan could think to say, bringing a hand up to absently touch his own lips.

Jon grabbed Ryan's wrist and pulled his hand out of the way, leaning in to press his mouth to Ryan's once more, this time pushing his tongue between Ryan's lips. Ryan made a soft noise, gripping the front of Jon's shirt, and kissed back eagerly.

"So, what is this," Ryan asked a little breathlessly when Jon pulled back, "a new way to deal with your problems?" Ryan's eyes were open again, suddenly still and trained on Jon, his pupils blown wide.

"I want you to show me what Brendon wants from me," Jon whispered, and if Ryan hadn't have known any better, he would have thought Jon was completely sober in that instant. "I want you to tell me what to do." Ryan had never seen so much pain in someone's eyes, so much darkness.

 _You still love him_ , Ryan didn't say.

 _Is this a good idea?_ Ryan didn't ask.

 _You might not like this_ , Ryan didn't warn him.

"Are you sure?" Ryan asked instead, not daring to move a muscle.

"I need to know, Ryan," Jon begged. "Please."

Ryan nodded, standing up unsteadily and helping Jon to his feet as well. They made for the closest bedroom as fast as they possibly could with a head full of pot, and started shedding clothes as soon as they made it in the door. They each took a moment to admire the other once they were both naked before Ryan stepped forward and caught Jon's lips in a slow, sloppy kiss. Jon pulled Ryan's waist in so that their hard cocks brushed together, trailing his mouth across Ryan's jaw and down to his neck.

"God, Jon," Ryan muttered, gently but firmly pulling Jon's head back by his hair. "Get on the bed," he commanded softly, letting his hands linger as he took a half step backwards. Jon looked like he was about to argue, so Ryan added, "Just trust me."

Ryan could see the point where Jon let his mind give in; his eyes went dark and his muscles relaxed even more than they already were, his cock twitching in anticipation. He crawled up onto the bed and laid back against the pillows, watching Ryan expectantly.

Ryan easily found a condom and some lube, joining Jon on the bed and settling between his legs. Jon probably knew exactly where this was going but he was calm, relaxed.

'Resigned' wasn't the right word, but it was the first word that came to mind.

Ryan ran his hands up Jon's thighs, suddenly getting cold feet about fucking Jon Walker, of all people, and really, this was not the best time to start feeling guilty.

"Come on, Ry," was all Jon had to say to get Ryan to ignore his conscience and coat his fingers in lube, eventually pushing all four fingers into Jon one at a time. When Ryan felt that he wouldn't hurt Jon, he rolled the condom on carefully, coated his cock with lube, and gently guided himself in. Jon moved to grip Ryan's wrist where he was holding himself up with one arm, his breath hitching at the sensation of Ryan's cock filling him so completely.

Ryan hastily exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding when his hips met the back of Jon's thighs, moving his other hand to brace himself over Jon. He was tight, for sure tighter than Brendon had ever been, but there were no signs of pain on Jon's face, just a vague combination of pleasure and awe.

"Ryan, god...," Jon muttered, trailing the hand that was around Ryan's wrist up his arm and into his shaggy mop of hair, pulling him down so that he was resting on his elbows and kissing him fiercely.

Sighing into the kiss, Ryan slowly pulled out before pushing back in at the same speed, setting a leisurely pace. Jon brought his free hand up to grip Ryan's shoulder, pulling Ryan's head back so that he could breathe.

"Fuck, Jon. We should have thought of this a long time ago."

"You should have smoked up with me a long time ago," Jon countered, sounding more stoned than ever.

Ryan snuck a hand down to Jon's hip before trailing it down his thigh. "I was the one who had to babysit you all and make sure you didn't smoke yourselves to death," he argued, pulling Jon's leg up around his waist, the new angle allowing Ryan to sink in a little further.

Jon didn't reply, instead letting his head fall back against the pillows, closing his eyes and moaning brokenly. "R-ryan..."

***

Ryan woke to the phone ringing, still pot-drowsy with a pair of warm arms wrapped around his chest. He blindly reached out for the phone vibrating on the night stand and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Ryan? Why do you have Jon's phone?"

Ryan grumbled sleepily, running a hand over his face. "I just picked up whichever one was ringing."

"I've been calling your phone for the past hour, where are you?"

Ryan opened his eyes and inspected his surroundings; apparently, he was in Jon's room, in Jon's bed, with Jon snuffling quietly into the back of his neck.

"In Jon's room."

"You slept in Jon's bed last night?"

"Hmm, I guess so. We smoked a bit last night and then-" Ryan froze, suddenly realizing he and Jon were both naked, the whole night before coming back to him in a rush. "Oh. Oh, shit."

Ryan could just _hear_ Spencer glaring at him. "Ryan, you didn't."

"Oh god, Spence... I-I think I did."

"You motherfucker," Spencer hissed, and if Ryan could think properly, if he could have moved at all, he would have been running, fast. "First you fuck up their relationship, and then you go take advantage of Jon?"

"Spencer, I can explain-"

"No, no, you stay where you are. I want to yell at you to your face."

"Spence-"

The other end of the line went dead, and all Ryan could do was hang up and put the phone down.

Jon stretched lazily, woken up by the sound of someone's voice, and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Ryan. "Ryan, what are you-? Oh, fuck." Jon obviously remembered faster than Ryan did.

"My sentiments exactly. Spencer called and he's pissed. I think he's coming to kill me, Jon."

Sighing disbelievingly, Jon rolled out of bed and dug through the pile of clothes near the door, finding Ryan's boxers first and throwing them at him before finding his own and pulling them on.

"Fuck, what are we going to do?"

With his hand on the door, Jon turned back to Ryan. "We tell him the truth," he answered flatly, although he looked a bit disturbed at the thought.

"Dude, Spencer's gonna kick my ass. I don't stand a chance."

Jon ran a tired hand over his face, taking a deep breath and letting it back out. "Just... get your shorts on, I'll deal with this."

Ryan complied as Jon made his way down the hallway, halfway to the door when the furious knocking started. Answering it, he found a certain red-faced, six foot tall brunette drummer with a score to settle. Ryan wasn't kidding.

"Don't think you can stand in my way, Walker."

"Will you at least listen to me before you go yelling at Ryan for no reason? We were high as fuck last night and-"

Spencer tried to barge through Jon, but Jon caught his arm and wrestled him to the floor, not without plenty of yelling and name-calling from Spencer. Ryan came down the hall to inspect the damage, staying hidden around the corner.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Spencer."

Spencer struggled, nearly throwing Jon off, but he held his ground. "Get _off_ of me."

"Are you going to listen to me?"

Spencer huffed but let his muscles relax. "Whatever," he muttered, still irritable.

Jon stood and helped Spencer to his feet, leading him into the living room to sit down. He still looked fairly angry, sitting on the far end of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and sporting his best bitchface, but Jon figured he wouldn't snap as long as Ryan wasn't there.

"Look, Spence. Don't blame this on Ryan, okay? We were high and I-I started it. I fucked up and I know that, so if you want to punch me, go ahead. Just... leave Ryan out of this."

Spencer sighed, uncrossing his arms and letting his face relax into a neutral expression. "It's just... you guys have no idea what I go through with Brendon every day... He's pretty low as it is... If he finds out about this..."

"You aren't going to tell him?" Jon asked warily, not noticing Ryan approaching from behind him.

Spencer shook his head, looking up at Ryan wearing only his boxers and a frightened expression on his face. "It's not my place. If either one of you want him to know..." He laughed humorlessly. "Don't make me have to watch him more than I already do."

Ryan and Jon both gave Spencer confused looks, but he simply stood and waved them off.

"Sorry, I forgot. He's not your problem anymore."

"Spencer," Ryan called after him as he started to walk to the door. He followed him and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "We love Brendon as much as you do. What's going on?"

Spencer couldn't meet either of their eyes, staring at the floor instead. "He's... very depressed. I can hardly get him out of the house anymore."

"Brendon's been depressed before," Jon tried helpfully. "He'll pull out of it soon."

"This is different," Spencer replied, more to Ryan than Jon. "I don't know how to help him this time."

Ryan's eyes widened a little. "God, Spencer, he's not-"

"I have to go," Spencer interrupted, but answered Ryan with his eyes. "He should be waking up soon."

Ryan stared after his best friend as he walked out the front door, completely frozen in horror.

"Ryan?"

Ryan's breath hitched and he nearly fell to his knees, Jon catching him before he hit the floor.

"God, Ryan, what...?" Jon babbled, turning Ryan around to face him.

"He's suicidal, Jon," Ryan half-sobbed, half-whimpered, clutching at the front of Jon's shirt. "And it's... it's my fault."

All Jon could do was stare at the wall as he let Ryan cry on his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Brendon woke up alone, the expanse of bed at his side cold. Spencer had taken to sleeping with Brendon to comfort him into sleep, calm him after he woke up from a nightmare, and drag him out of bed to actually do something every morning. Spencer rarely left him alone, too worried about what Brendon would do to himself if he didn't have constant social contact.

'Paranoia' wasn't the right word, but it was the first word that came to mind.

However, Brendon almost felt relieved as he searched the house to find it completely empty. Going back into his bedroom, he grabbed a note from under his mattress and locked himself in the bathroom.

If it wasn't for Spencer, he would have done this a long time ago.

Brendon knew he didn't have much time, knowing Spencer, so he turned the faucet in the tub on full blast, trying to fill it as quickly as possible. He tugged off his boxers and shuffled through the medicine drawer, looking for the prescription bottle he had found the week before. He grinned to himself a little bit as he pulled out the bottle of Xanax, uncapping it and downing the whole bottle, coughing as he struggled to get them all down.

By then the tub had filled, so he made sure to hide the empty prescription bottle back in the drawer and strategically place his note next to the sink before shutting off the faucet and climbing in, sinking down in the hot water.

How long would Spencer be gone? Would he come back before the drugs could set in? Before he could sink into the water and pretend he was a fish? Before he could black out and stop breathing altogether? Would Spencer find him in time to be able to save him?

Brendon certainly hoped not.

It seemed like forever before he started to feel drowsy, and he finally let his eyes close, allowing the combination of his body weight and gravity to drag him underwater. His body fought hard against him, but he finally couldn't hold his breath anymore, gasping in a mouthful of water instead of air.

He heard a garbled scream of his name, and then nothing.

***

_To Spencer, since you'll probably find this first._

_Please don't be mad at me._

_You were there for me when no one else was. I know how hard you worked for me, I know what you went through for me. I appreciate everything you have ever done for me._

_I'm sorry to say that it wasn't enough._

_Please know that I love you and I'm more sorry about having to leave you than anything else in my entire life. I just wished more people could be like you._

_Please send the two enclosed notes to Ryan and Jon. Tell my parents I love them. You know, the usual._

_Now, I know you're either about to cry, Spence, or you already are. That's fine. You have every right. But you'll have to be strong for everyone else. I know that's a lot to ask, but I know you can do it. You're Spencer fucking Smith._

_Why else would I trust you to find this first?_

_Love always and forever,  
Bden._

***

_To Ryan._

_I'll always miss you; the way you smell, the way you feel, how your dorky grin always makes me laugh. You grabbed me by the hand and dragged me into the spotlight, and for that I am forever grateful. You grabbed me by the heart, albeit a little too late, and dragged me to bed. Not that I blame you for it. I just couldn't control myself around you._

_I wanted you ever since I laid eyes on you._

_You were my hero, Ryan. You pulled me out of my miserable teenage existence and held me up on a pedestal I didn't know I deserved. I thought I loved you at that point._

_I was too afraid to tell you how I felt._

_If you had been so open back then, maybe this fiasco would have never happened. Then again, maybe something worse would have. No one will ever know._

_I honestly never wanted to hurt you. Any of you._

_I guess I did anyway._

_But whatever you do now, Ry, don't bottle this up. Even if it's the crappiest lyrics you've ever written, write a song about me. No really, I mean it. Write a song about me and sing it, with all of your heart. And if you cry a little on the way, that's okay. Just sing._

_I'll be listening._

_Love,  
Bden._

***

_To Jon, the absolute love of my life._

_It pains me to acknowledge that this is your fault._

_I loved you ever since that night we first smoked up together. Do you remember that? You fell in my lap and just lay there all night. I couldn't stop touching your hair, your face. I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I didn't know how you would take that, stoned or not._

_I was so happy the first time you ever kissed me. Do you remember that? It was after that November show in New York just after you joined us. I knew you had been staring at me the whole night, so I went up to you, but before I could even say or do anything you grabbed my face and kissed me. You ran your hands down my sides to my hips, around to my ass. I didn't want to let go of you, didn't want to ever stop kissing you._

_And then when you asked me out. Do you remember that? Midnight on Christmas Eve and you called me up from Chicago to say Merry Christmas even though it was only ten there. You asked if I would be bothered if you came down to stay with me for a couple of days. I said it would be fine, so you came down Christmas day. Do you remember what you gave me? It was a silly little red teddy bear. I still have it; it's in my closet at this very moment. After you gave it to me, you took my hand and asked if I would be your boyfriend._

_And I said yes, I would be your world if you asked._

_The first time we had sex was probably the best night of my life. Do you remember that? Middle of fucking nowhere England in a crappy motel, two guys to a room, sheets that smelled like mothballs and feet. But you didn't care one bit; you made the sweetest, gentlest love to me that night, and afterwards I fell asleep curled up in your arms._

_And just so you know, I was a virgin when that happened. I didn't start cheating on you until a few months later._

_For that part, I truly am sorry. Ryan tried to stop me several times, but it became a habit, a bad habit. An addiction I couldn't kick. I wanted everything, all the time. You should be glad I didn't go to anyone else, that I stuck to someone I knew, someone safe and clean. Someone I cared about, although not nearly as much as you._

_I just want you to know that I love you, Jon. I do. I really, really do, and I'm not just saying that because I'm killing myself and I want you to feel guilty. I kind of do want you to feel guilty, but that's just me being angry and depressed._

_I love you, Jon. I love you with all of my heart._

_And I just couldn't live without you._

_Until we meet again and then for eternity afterwards,_  
Your little bunny,  
Bden. 

***

Jon stared at the pristine, waxed white and grey speckled linoleum floor of Brendon's ICU room. The doctors had done everything they could to save him - pumped the handful of pills out of his stomach, set him up on oxygen, an IV drip, the works - but the outlook was grim. He was still going in and out of sleep after seven hours and when he was awake he was very disoriented; no one was completely sure if he would have permanent brain damage or not from lack of oxygen.

The doctors called him lucky for having such caring friends like Spencer.

Most people don't live through warm-water drownings.

Spencer quite literally ripped the bathroom door off its hinges after calling 911 and pulled Brendon out of the water, out of the tub. The paramedics said that if he hadn't immediately started mouth-to-mouth, Brendon would have gone into cardiac arrest and probably would have died.

 _You saved his life, kid_ , one of them had said, clapping Spencer on the back.

Jon sighed, neatly folding up Brendon's suicide note and putting it back in his shirt pocket. He'd nearly read it a thousand times, and then reread it another thousand. Brendon was blaming him, and after about the third time he read the note, he agreed with him.

When Brendon had said, "I love you," at the airport, he really had meant it.

Jon felt like such a jerk.

"Is he awake?" Spencer questioned in a half whisper, stepping into the room almost silently. Something about the seriousness of the situation made whispering a necessity.

"Not now," Jon muttered back, making himself pay attention to the steady rhythm of Brendon's heart monitor. A straight seventy-five beats per minute for the past twenty minutes, since he fell back to sleep again. "Where'd Ryan make off to?"

Spencer laughed a little, and it brought Jon's spirits up to know that Spencer could still make a joke at a time like this. "He's outside having a smoke, scribbling furiously in his notebook. He really took Brendon's note to heart."

Jon let a small smile turn up the corners of his lips. "He's really writing a song about Brendon?"

"That's what he said. Knowing Ryan, it's gonna be pretty fucking amazing."

Jon nodded his agreement as Spencer sat down in the chair next to him, pulling his phone out to check the time. A nurse making her rounds came in to check on Brendon, scribbling something on her clipboard. She flashed a sympathetic smile at Jon and Spencer as she left.

"Do you blame me for this, Spence?" Jon asked in a mere whisper, his hands clasped together nervously.

Sighing through his nose, Spencer covered Jon's hands with one of his own. "It's as much your fault as it is mine and Ryan's. You may have started it, but we should have stopped it." He glanced over at Brendon, peacefully oblivious in his slumber. "I should have done more."

"You did everything you could," Jon assured him, taking Spencer's hand between his. "Brendon's heart is still beating right now because of you. You saved his life."

Spencer took his hand back to wrap both arms around Jon's neck in a hug. "I'm so sorry about earlier... it's just... Brendon-"

"Shh, I know, Spence, I know," Jon muttered, returning the hug and rubbing soothing circles on Spencer's back.

The two sat there for a long while, just listening to the steady beeping and whirring of the machines in the room. Eventually Ryan returned, his favorite tattered boots clicking sharply against the floor. Jon looked up at the noise, nodding his greeting; Spencer stayed huddled against Jon's chest.

"Hey," Ryan croaked, his voice wrecked from crying and chain smoking for the last hour. "Asleep still, I presume?"

Jon nodded, lifting a hand from Spencer's back to beckon Ryan over. There were only two chairs in the room, so Jon and Spencer sat back and allowed Ryan to stretch out across their laps, his head resting on Spencer's shoulder.

"You know I love you guys, right?" Ryan muttered against Spencer's neck, although in the otherwise quiet room, he was loud enough that if Brendon were awake, he could have heard. "All three of you," he added, as if the idea wasn't obvious.

Spencer hugged Ryan close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I know, Ry," he muttered. "I love you, too. And Jon and Brendon."

Jon smiled over at the two younger men, squeezing Ryan's ankle. "You guys are like my family. Brendon..." He looked back at Brendon on the bed, breathing slow and deep, all pale skin and soft features. "Well, you're a little more special, I guess."

"I love you guys too," Brendon whispered hoarsely, causing the other three to jump a little. "More than you'll ever know." He opened his eyes then, blinking around the room before letting his gaze settle on Jon. "Can you ever forgive me for what I've done?"

Jon shoved Ryan's legs off his lap and rushed to Brendon's side, grasping one of his hands and kissing his knuckles before pressing Brendon's palm to his own cheek. "God, Brendon... I'm- I'm just glad you're alive," he breathed, his eyes beginning to water.

Brendon gave a sheepish half-grin. "I'm sorry. I just... didn't know what else to do."

Jon sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to press his cheek to Brendon's, hugging him carefully to keep from jostling any tubes or wires. "What did you think I'd do without you? Fuck, I was stupid, okay? I should have listened to you."

"You had every right to do what you did, Jon," Brendon reasoned, wrapping his arms around Jon, also careful of everything he was hooked up to. "I was a total dick to you. You could have done worse."

"I shouldn't have ignored you. I never realized..." Jon paused, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "I didn't believe you."

"I wasn't even sure myself until you said it was over," Brendon admitted, pressing Jon closer. "You never know what you have until it's gone, I guess."

"Or almost gone." Jon pulled back and held Brendon's face in his hands, gently, as if he were made of glass. "Don't ever leave me," he whispered, so quiet he almost couldn't hear himself.

Brendon bit one side of his bottom lip, a smile crinkling his eyes. "I won't if you won't."

Jon surged forward, pressing a heated kiss to Brendon's lips, causing the heart monitor to beep a little faster, his breath coming a little sharper.

Across the room, Ryan pressed a smile into Spencer's neck, still perched on his lap. Spencer just held Ryan closer, letting a relieved sigh ruffle Ryan's hair.

***

"That one right there," Jon was saying, pointing up at the night sky. "That's Draco. And that one over there is Hercules."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Brendon asked, awed. "I just know where the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper is," he added, pointing them both out.

Jon shrugged, mostly useless as he was lying on his back and Brendon couldn't see him, as he was lying with the top of his head to Jon's. "I don't know. I think my mom taught me a lot of it."

Brendon rolled over so that he was on his stomach and looked down at Jon upside down. "I think you're just too awesome for your own good."

Smiling, Jon batted lightly at Brendon's face, and Brendon fell over dramatically before crawling to Jon's side and cuddling close.

"Ever made love under the stars, Jon?" Brendon asked, sounding more young and innocent than seductive, and maybe that's what he was going for.

Jon looked over at Brendon, who was looking back up at him with his big doe eyes shining in the moonlight. "I haven't," he answered truthfully, blinking up at the stars for a moment before letting his eyes fall back on Brendon. "Have you?"

Brendon shook his head, his bangs falling into his eyes.

"Would you like to?"

Brendon grinned deviously. "What if Ryan comes out here?" he asked, mock worried.

"Ryan can suck it, I live here too. Besides, it's nothing he's never seen before anyway." Jon had told Brendon almost immediately after he left the hospital about his stoned escapade with Ryan. "I'll bottom," he added on a breath.

When he mentioned the time with Ryan, he never mentioned who was where, however.

Brendon propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at Jon's face. "You're serious?" he inquired, eyes wide. "Are you-?"

"I'm sure."

Brendon laughed a little disbelievingly. "Jon, you don't have to, really-"

"I want to," Jon interrupted, brushing the hair out of Brendon's eyes and trailing his hand down Brendon's cheek to his jaw, curling his fingers around the back of his neck. "I really do."

Brendon swallowed and let Jon pull him in for a lazy kiss, keeping things slow and only peeling clothes off when they parted to breathe. Once they were fully naked, Jon took Brendon's hand and sucked on a couple of his fingers, getting them as wet as possible before letting go.

Settling between Jon's legs, Brendon gently eased his boyfriend open with his fingers, pressing soft, loving kisses to every bit of skin he could reach. When Jon urged him on with a slight roll of his hips, Brendon pulled his fingers out and licked his palm, slicking himself.

"Brendon," Jon whimpered as Brendon pushed in, his toes curling in the blanket beneath them.

Brendon choked off a moan as he sunk all the way in, resting his forehead against Jon's collarbone. "Fuck, I've always wanted to do this," he breathed, pressing his fingers into Jon's hips.

One hand wrapped around Brendon's upper arm and the other tangled in his hair, Jon smiled. "Me too; it just took me a while to figure it out."

Brendon lifted his head to smile down at Jon and press a kiss to his cheek. " _Don't let the sun come up..._ ," Brendon sang quietly, nuzzling into Jon's neck. He had quickly memorized the song Ryan had written for him, often catching Ryan humming it.

" _The ringmaster comes alive in the shadows..._ ," Jon whispered the next line.

" _I don't want this night to end..._ "

" _He'll take all our problems to the gallows._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That song at the end is actually one I wrote, just in case anyone was wondering.


End file.
